


Everything Goes Away

by dr_ducktator



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Nuke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_ducktator/pseuds/dr_ducktator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan chose the path of least resistance when it came to Duke Crocker. It was simpler to pretend to hate him than to fight to keep him – to get Duke to stay with him – in Haven. And the longer Duke stayed away each time, the easier it was for Nathan to mistake fake hatred and a broken heart for real enmity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Goes Away

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place sometime during season 1. As you can see, the Chief is very much alive, and Nathan still thinks his Trouble isn't one.  
> Some swearing, some M/M sexy times.  
> This is a little fic inspired by "Always Gold" by Radical Face. The fic's title comes from the song, as does Nathan's paraphrased letter. Thanks to my dearest wishtheworst for introducing me to the perfect Nuke song. You can listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqc2uOunPdA.

Nathan wasn’t sure when it happened. One day they were mortal enemies, and the next day they weren’t. He knew it wasn’t quite so cut-and-dried, but as the years went on and their friendship grew into something else, Nathan couldn’t bring himself to care about pinpointing the exact moment when his feelings of hatred for Duke transformed into feelings of love for him.

Despite his often too-stoic nature, Nathan is a fan of nostalgia and romance. When he’s alone and feeling quiet he revisits times when Duke wasn’t the bane of his existence. Back when Duke was the one thing that kept him sane.

Nathan’s idiopathic neuropathy plagued him as a child. He never knew what was worse about having the disorder: not being able to feel anything, or feeling acutely every single insult hurled at him because of it. At the center of the torment Nathan always found Duke. 

Eventually, his condition went away. The suspicious, questioning looks and thoughtless, stupid, cruel off-handed comments didn’t, even years later. Somewhere along the way Duke and Nathan became friends. As would become a trademark of their relationship, things between them went unaddressed until one or the other’s temper boiled over and they’d have a shouting match. Once in a while, a punch was thrown. 

That’s how Nathan remembers the vague genesis of their friendship, anyway. There were more specific details, of course. Duke had been pestering Nathan about some homework assignment, Nathan had asked him where he was hiding the tacks, Duke whined, he told Duke to fuck off, Duke tried to make a joke, Nathan didn’t smile, there was uncomfortable silence, and then Duke spilled his guts. He apologized to Nathan for every shitty thing he’d ever done, how he was so unhappy as a kid because of his worthless father, how he was so scared he was going to turn out like him, how he just wanted to feel like he belonged to something, even if it was a group of asshole bullies, and finally, how he hoped he and Nathan could be friends.

For whatever reason, probably exhaustion from social isolation, Nathan said okay. Then he punched Duke in the face. After that he and Duke were pretty inseparable. They were sort of the town’s misfits when the Troubles weren’t around. Duke had jokingly once referred to the pair of them as “the freak and the failure.” It had hurt Nathan to hear Duke say that because while he knew Duke was joking about the freak thing, he wasn’t kidding about being a failure. Duke’s father’s shadow loomed darkly over him, and Nathan hated that he couldn’t help pull Duke out from under it. To Nathan, Duke wasn’t broken, crooked, or destined to fail. To Nathan, Duke was something precious.

Nathan’s reputation as “the-boy-who-couldn’t-feel,” even after he could feel again, didn’t stand in the way of people eventually coming to see him as a pretty trustworthy guy. He was a cop’s kid, after all, and as he got older people figured he was friends with Duke out of charity. They thought Nathan might be a good influence on Duke. And Nathan, despite whatever flights of fancy he had, always knew he’d end up being a cop in Haven. He had an innate sense of justice and right-doing that wouldn’t leave him alone. He and Duke fought about right and wrong frequently. Where Nathan saw everything in black-and-white, Duke saw things in grayscale.

Even when they were best friends Duke and Nathan never failed to antagonize one another. And later, when they’d inexplicably fallen in love, there was always something hanging in the air between them. Duke was restless; Nathan knew it. The impermanence of anything secure in Duke’s life fueled his inability to stay in one place and just _be_.

Of course they had spent time apart before. Nathan went to school and became a cop, just like he figured he would, and settled back in Haven. Duke floated in and out of town, determined each time he returned to stay for good. Nathan always let Duke stay with him, even though he had his boat. But all of Duke’s charm, craftiness, and deflection never fooled Nathan; he could read Duke like a book. Nathan always knew when Duke would be leaving. He’d crowd into Nathan’s personal space even more than he normally did, he’d go on nostalgia benders about fishing trips they’d taken together, and he’d kiss Nathan like he’d never see him again.  


They went on like that for years, with Duke coming and going, and it never really bothered Nathan. He liked his space and his alone time, so it was nice when Duke took a trip somewhere. He tried never to think about what he was doing when he went; plausible deniability worked for Nathan. Duke always came back within a few days. It wasn’t until Duke disappeared for three months that Nathan thought he was going to lose his mind. He consoled himself with a mantra, often repeating to himself, “He always comes back.”

It was the dead of winter when Duke came back. Nathan sat by his living room fireplace listening to the wind howl as he went over the notes for a few open cases. It was getting late, the fire had nearly gone out, and Nathan was tired. He turned off the lamp by his chair and headed toward his bedroom. That’s when he heard the knock at his door. He didn’t know who in their right mind would be out in such horrible weather, so Nathan pulled his gun from a nearby table drawer, opened the door, and kept the gun trained on whoever was on the other side. 

He’d seen Duke looking worse over the years, but he’d be lying if the black eye, split lip, and haunted look on Duke’s face didn’t freak him out a little. Still, Nathan didn’t say a word. He simply lowered his gun and stepped aside to allow Duke in the house. Duke sat by the dying fire while Nathan stoked it back to life. He then went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of whiskey. Duke took the glass wordlessly and sipped at its contents. Nathan went to bed.

In the moments of romance and nostalgia Nathan revisits, the memory of that night plays a significant role. He recalls what happened, every time, as a series of individual sensations shoved up against one another: the loud creak of the floor as Duke came in the room, the sound of rustling clothes, the feel of the bed dipping as Duke slid in behind him, how his breath left him as Duke’s cold body molded to fit his shape, the ease of his tension when Duke kissed him behind his ear, the soft gasp he released when he felt Duke’s hips rolling slowly against him, the rush of satisfaction he felt when he pressed back and was rewarded with a quiet moan, the swooping feeling he got in his stomach, just like always, when Duke wrapped a hand around him, the pained sound of his own voice – seeming so far away – as he begged Duke not to stop doing that magical thing he always did with his hand, the taste of Duke on his tongue as he swallowed him down, and the feeling of normalcy as they wrapped their arms around each other after.

In the morning, as they stayed huddled under the covers for warmth, Nathan had a realization. No matter how much he loved Duke, and no matter how much he knew Duke loved him, they wouldn’t be able to make it work. Duke’s involvement in a business he insisted was legitimate nagged at Nathan’s conscience more than he liked to admit. Nathan was always more concerned with Duke’s safety than his illegal goings-on, but in that moment of quiet contentment he resolved to toe the law enforcement line and make a clean break. He knew it would hurt like hell, but he figured it would be for the best for both of them.

“If you leave like that again, for that long, Duke, I don’t know. I can’t just turn a blind eye anymore.”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll stay safe. It’ll all be all right, Nathan. I promise,” Duke whispered into the nape of Nathan’s neck.

Nathan knew it wouldn’t be all right. And it wasn’t. That was the last night they’d spent together. That was five years ago.

Nathan chose the path of least resistance when it came to Duke Crocker. It was simpler to pretend to hate him than to fight to keep him – to get Duke to stay with him – in Haven. And the longer Duke stayed away each time, the easier it was for Nathan to mistake fake hatred and a broken heart for real enmity. He could concoct all manner of crimes in his head of which Duke was guilty then hide behind his badge to justify his anger.

Nathan pulled himself back to the present, but lingered on his thoughts of Duke. Duke hadn’t gone away for quite some time. The Troubles had returned and so had Nathan’s idiopathic neuropathy. He didn’t know the reasons for any of it. He woke up, went to work with Audrey, and came home. That was his life. He was good with that. 

Sometimes, though, he’d wake up in the middle of the night because he was sure he heard someone knocking on his front door. After the thirty-eighth time it happened he was finally able to quell the war of emotions that played out inside him. He didn’t bother checking the door anymore. The first few times it happened he was so fucked up from the mix of adrenaline and hope that he ended up on his knees in front of the toilet. 

Nathan held on to a note he once wrote to Duke. The note read, “I’ll be here when you’re in town.” He never gave it to him, opting instead to keep it shoved in the back of the drawer of his bedside table. He’d written it one of the times Duke had left Haven and come back months later. They’d been broken up for some time, but Nathan still suffered immeasurable bouts of melancholy. That particular night he was a little drunk, and thought it would be a good idea to give the note to Duke. He’d even gone so far as to walk, note in hand, to Duke’s boat. He’d lost his nerve at the dock and returned home. 

Nathan was yanked back to reality by fingers drumming on his desk. It was Duke with some new complaint about how the city employees had treated him. He humored Duke and listened to him rant, said something snarky in reply, then sent Duke, pouting, in search of Audrey’s slightly more sympathetic ear.

Nathan still loved Duke. Of course he did. And Duke still loved Nathan. Denial is powerful, but love is stronger, and Nathan wasn’t fooling himself. Two people don’t stand that close to each other and get in each other’s faces that much if they aren’t in love. But the damage was done. The wedge they’d lodged between them was comprised of too much lost time, too many punches thrown, too many accusations, and too many painful truths. Nathan was good at resigning himself to safer, familiar states of being. He knew, eventually, he’d get over it. Hope was fleeting and pointless.

With his attention directed at the contents of a manila folder in front of him, Nathan didn’t hear Duke return.

“Working hard or hardly working, Officer Wuornos?” Duke asked.

Nathan didn’t look up, but his chest tightened like it always did when Duke was around. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Not now, Crocker. I have to finish this stuff before the Chief comes back.”

As Nathan expected, Duke didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled up a chair and sat in front of Nathan’s desk. Minutes passed. Once Nathan realized Duke wasn’t leaving, he turned his attention toward him.

“What?” Nathan snapped.

“I’ve been here for a while now, Nathan,” Duke said, calmly.

“Yes. Noted. And I see that you aren’t going to leave unless I pay attention to you, so what do you want?”

Duke smiled. It was a smile Nathan hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was warm and kind and it scared the hell out of him. 

“No, Nathan. I don’t mean _here_ here. I mean _here_. In Haven. I’ve been in Haven for a while, and it doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere soon. I feel sort of planted, like I’m putting down roots.” The smile returned.

“This isn’t a good time, Duke.” Nathan started gathering his paperwork, intent on getting the hell out of the police station as soon as possible.

Duke slapped his hand down on the papers. He spoke quietly, but with an authority in his voice that made Nathan shiver. “If not now, then when, Nathan? Would you rather wait until it’s the middle of the night? Would you rather wait until you’re drunk enough to have the courage to face me, or will you chicken out on the dock again?”

Nathan’s eyes widened. “I never –” he began to protest. Duke cut him off.

“Don’t. I saw you, Nathan. I saw you on the dock, and I was so happy because I thought something good could happen for us. I thought you’d climbed off your high horse because you’d seen that I was really trying to do something good with myself here, and you were coming to tell me everything was going to be okay for us.”  
It was late in the day, and Nathan was thankful for that. There weren’t many people around to hear their conversation. Though Duke had thrown him for a loop with his sudden confession, Nathan found his feet again. While Duke fiddled with a pen on Nathan’s desk, Nathan tore into him.

“This is just like you, you know that, Duke? Everything has to be on _your_ terms, in _your_ time, when _you’re_ ready, and when you just happen to be in town for a while. Just because you’re standing here, pouring your heart out, that doesn’t mean that I’m just going to just be okay with everything. Real life doesn’t work like that. You left me over and over. You showed up, every time without warning, and I let you in. I know that that’s partly my fault. But finally I had to shut you out because it all became too much.”

Duke set the pen down and looked up at Nathan. “I’m sorry.”

Nathan huffed out a laugh. “You know how often you’ve said that to me over the years, Duke? I know you mean it every time you say it. I just wish you didn’t have to say it so much. And you want to talk about courage? Yeah, I was too chicken-shit to knock on your door that night. But you saw me. You saw me there. And you’re only now saying something about it? That was over three years ago, Duke! So don’t sit there and accuse _me_ of being a coward. You’re as gutless as I am. At least I have the balls to admit it.”

He stormed out of the police station leaving Duke at his desk. He flew home in his Bronco, leaving in his wake at least five different traffic violations. He didn’t care, though. He was angry and hurting and he’d had enough. In a rush, he nearly broke the key off in the lock of his front door. He slammed it behind him and charged into his bedroom. He yanked open the drawer of his bedside table, found the letter, and took it with him into the living room. There, he set the letter on fire and threw it into the fireplace. As it burned, Nathan felt lighter than he had in years. It was like the past was burning with it. The truth, however, is that Nathan was always great at self-deception.

Later that evening he was having a drink by the fire. The events of the day had affected him more deeply than he’d realized at first, so he elected to do nothing but sit in front of the fire and have a drink in the silence. He’d just put another log on the fire when he heard the knock on his front door. He knew who would be on the other side, and despite everything he wasn’t angry. He felt surprisingly okay with the world just then. It wasn’t like being without Duke was ever an option Nathan seriously considered. Being without Duke was a stupid, failed experiment. He’d always believed, deep down, that eventually, when two people circle each other the way he and Duke did for as long as they had, things had to work out the way they were meant to. He decided to quit fighting everything and just _be_. 

Nathan took a deep breath and opened the door. Once again, Duke Crocker stood on Nathan Wuornos’ front porch, looking worse for wear. Once again, Nathan didn’t say a word; he simply stepped aside to allow Duke in the house.


End file.
